Updated: Aug. 1, 2023
Originally Published: July 27, 2023
I can’t claim to speak for everyone, but I know I’m not alone in my battle. I’ve been grappling with my mental health for quite some time, and the moment has finally arrived for me to take action.
Anxiety has been a part of my life since childhood. Unfortunate events and stressful periods have burdened me with heavy responsibilities and overwhelming emotions. We all carry our own narratives, often filled with helplessness and chaos, but that’s not the primary focus here. While our pasts may shape us, the damage has been done, and life continues to move forward.
As a teenager wading through life’s challenges, I built protective walls, hoping to shield myself from past pains. I meticulously plan my life and analyze those around me, all while avoiding situations that might lead to emotional turmoil. Little did I know, anxiety was silently taking root, growing alongside me.
Anxiety feeds my insecurities and fears. It brings on sweaty palms and a racing heartbeat. It robs me of restful nights, flooding my mind with thoughts that seem irrational yet make sense in the silence of night. It strains my relationships and sours gatherings. It hampers my ability to be a supportive partner and parent, stripping away my remaining confidence.
Depression made its presence known in my early adulthood. As I navigated my twenties, I believed the world could be mine for the taking if I could just get a handle on my anxiety. Yet, when anxiety peaked, depression emerged like a thick fog, obscuring my vision and drowning me in unexpected sadness. I yearned for light, but the clouds of despair always seemed to loom nearby. This sensation felt both foreign and hauntingly familiar, echoing the darker moments of my childhood, and I often wanted to flee from it.
But it always catches up.
Depression feeds my anxiety, amplifying my irrational thoughts. It wraps me in a blanket of sadness and isolation, keeping me distanced from my family, both physically and emotionally. It offers a dark refuge where I can hide, but the pain and stagnation are ever-present. I find myself cycling through these feelings, unable to escape the grip of despair.
I’m exhausted.
I see myself trying to shield my anxiety and depression from the world. To others, I wear a mask of happiness — a facade I’ve perfected. I feel like I’m running in circles, striving to occupy my mind and fend off intrusive thoughts. While everyone else sees a woman capable of juggling it all, the pressure weighs heavily on me.
I’m caught in a rat race, and when I stumble, I berate myself. I watch opportunities slip through my fingers, convinced I can’t take on more than I already bear, which feels like nothing at all. I rationalize my feelings, dismissing them as fleeting, telling myself that after completing school or moving, everything will improve. But it never does.
And I’m not alone.
I eventually hit rock bottom, sitting on the edge of my bed, consumed by feelings of inadequacy as a mother and wife. In that moment, I picked up the phone and reached out to my doctor.
I entered her office, heart racing and tears brimming. As I sat down, my blood pressure soared, as if I had consumed five shots of espresso. I spoke through my tears, seeking help while she compassionately asked the tough questions.
“Yes, I’m a therapist,” I confirmed, feeling exposed yet vulnerable.
“Wow,” she responded. “You should be really proud of taking this step,” as she wrote me a prescription.
In that moment, I felt a mix of helplessness and pride. It took me far too long to get here, but I realized I couldn’t manage this alone. This emotional low wasn’t caused by my kids, my husband, or my friends; it was a result of my depression and anxiety uniting against me. I am grateful for that moment of clarity, as it led me to take a significant step forward.
And I’m not alone.
I will never stand alone in this fight. I am part of a courageous community that battles these disorders daily, utilizing therapy and medication. Together, we are here to challenge the stigma surrounding mental health.
Depression and anxiety know no boundaries. They affect individuals of all genders, races, sizes, and cultures. And that’s okay, because we’re not alone — we have each other to help eradicate shame and embarrassment from our minds and society.
I refuse to feel ashamed. We refuse to feel ashamed. And you don’t have to feel ashamed either.
Because you are not alone.
For more insights and stories on this topic, check out this related post on coping with anxiety and depression. Additionally, if you’re considering at-home insemination, visit Make a Mom for reputable insemination kits and resources. You can also explore this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination information.
Summary:
This article explores the author’s personal experiences with anxiety and depression, highlighting the importance of seeking help and finding community support. It emphasizes that these struggles are universal and not a source of shame, encouraging readers to reach out for assistance and connect with others facing similar challenges.
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